The Morning After
by JohnnysTuffMustangs
Summary: If I squinted enough, she kind of looked like Kurt. Klaine. No smut. Really fluffy.


**Okay - Here's the deal. This is my first Klaine fic ever. I wanted it to be SO DIFFERENT than this. But this is how it ended up.**

**IT IS INCREDIBLY FLUFFY WITH NO SMUT WHATSOEVER.**

**Oh well, deal with it.**

**Anyway. Sorry it's so late. And sorry it goes mega downhill towards the end - I wanted to finish it, but there have been a lot of things on my mind lately. Anyway, send a review my way, and let me know what's up ;D**

**I love you all.**

**Enjoy.**

If I squinted enough, she kind of looked like Kurt. She didn't smell like him – Kurt had this nice homely smell that I don't think anyone could imitate. She certainly didn't _feel_ like him – Kurt's skin was always perfectly smooth, but it still had that nice rough layer that defined him as a man. But after enough vodka and a wild imagination, she kind of looked like him. Hell, with enough vodka, a couch cushion could look like Kurt.

And while I was kissing her, I thought it was him. I saw the pink face of a girl unsure of how to settle her alcohol coming towards me, but as soon as our lips touched, she suddenly was the cute, sober boy that was currently starring at us with such unease. I smiled, thinking of how nice his mouth felt against mine, and in that moment, no matter how fuzzy my mind claimed to be, I knew that this is where I belonged, and my vision focused on a picture of me, snuggled against the boy that I wanted to be with forever.

He pulled back, and_ she _became Rachel Berry again, the girl that spoke in just the wrong pitch, but always sung spot on. I could not possibly imagine where Kurt had gone – hadn't he just been giving me the best snog of my life? Maybe, I thought as I leaned forward to kiss her again, if our lips met, she'd be Kurt once more.

"Okay, that's enough," I heard. I realized that I had been in a small bubble, and even after the voice broke the barrier, all the sounds around me were muffled. I suddenly understood what I was doing, and my head whipped as fast as it could towards the real Kurt, currently looking devastated and broken, seeing me kiss his best friend.

He looked absolutely beautiful. The lights seemed to be shining on him, and him alone. He's always been able to distract me, but with the alcohol screaming at me to make my move, I could not concentrate on anything but the absolute perfection of his every feature. His eyes were what finally got me – they were huge and full of something that made me want to comfort him.

My hand reached out to touch him, but it was intercepted. Before I knew what was happening, I was pulled onstage by the desperate looking girl I had just been kissing. The last thing I remember was trying to look towards Kurt, but he was much too far away, and much, _much_ too blurry.

"C'mon, slugger. We have to get going."

My eyes opened slowly, but I closed them immediately when the light from the ceiling threatened to blind me. My mind was a complete blank, and the only thing that I knew was that I wanted to stay where I was, curled up in a tight ball forever. "Graughhhh," I moaned, hoping to God that this would be enough explanation, and I could go back to a peaceful sleep.

"Oh no," Kurt screamed, wrapping an arm around my middle and pulling me up to a sitting position. "It's your own fault you're sick. We have to leave now, or my dad's going to kill both me and Finn."

"But I dun – dun wanna – wanna go," I forced out, fighting the complete haze taking over my brain and the inevitable nausea that always came from waking up drunk.

"Too bad. We're leaving. C'mon." Even blurry, his face looked adorable.

"No!" I wondered what I looked like. Probably disgusting, but I was still too intoxicated to care.

"Blaine Anderson, you have until three before I get really upset! Now get up!"

I laughed. I haven't heard somebody say that since I was about ten, and my mom was angry that I wouldn't leave the candy aisle at the store.

"One!" He was still smiling.

"Two!" I smiled back, hoping he knew that I was not going to give into his games.

"Two and a half!" His eyes squinted. He looked like he was expecting the worse.

"Don't you dare make me say three!" At this, I laid back down, closing my eyes. I wasn't that tired anymore, but Kurt was getting more and more attractive as he became angrier.

"That's it, Mr. Anderson," I heard him say above me. "You, sir, are going to regret this."

Before I knew it, I was under attack. I pulled my legs up to defend myself against his hands, but he was determined to tickle me very well to death. "Stop it!" I wailed, unable to protect myself. "Kuuuuuuuurt!"

"Say you're sorry!" He smiled again, withdrawing his hands of death. "And get up!"

The words, "No," barely got out of my mouth before he was tickling me again, but this time I was ready for it. I leapt into his attack, and he was taken by surprise. We landed sloppily on the floor, and when he realized that he would never be able to beat me in a wrestling match, he gave up. "You're weak," I giggled, pinning him down by his shoulders. "And now you're mine, and you have until three to go away and let me sleep."

"Oh yeah, cause I'm afraid of you." His eyes narrowed, but I knew he wasn't really angry.

"One," I said a little louder than I had wanted. He flinched.

"Two." I had brought myself back to normal tone. I was getting closer and closer to Kurt's face, suddenly remembering the way the lights had lingered on him earlier and wanting nothing more than to kiss him.

"Three." I was finally whispering, and our mouths were almost grazing. Kurt's eyes had closed by then, and his chest was moving faster than I had ever noticed it moving before. I could not manage to keep my eyes shut – I wanted to remember this moment for the rest of my life. I wanted to remember how he looked, how he tasted, how he smelled…

But I didn't get that chance. "What the hell?" I screamed, my voice rising back up to a shout. Someone had wrapped their arms around me, and I was currently in the air, kicking and flailing, trying to break out of the terrible prison.

"Sorry, you're not molesting my brother tonight, dude. We gotta get going." Who it was still didn't quite register in my head – all that I was aware of was that whoever it was was walking me farther and farther away from the potential kiss, and they were not slackening their grip.

"Finn!" Kurt yelled somewhere behind me. "Finn, what are you doing? Put him down!"

"Nope!" When he talked, his chest pushed against my back, and it was uncomfortable. "I obviously can't trust you to come down and get him, so I have to do it. And don't think you're off the hook for what I just saw."

"What you just _saw_? What's so wrong with what you just _saw_, Finn? Is it because he's a _boy_? If it had been Rachel on top of me, would you be okay with what you just _saw_?" He said all of this very quickly, and it continued all the way to the car. The words all started to sound the same to me, and I was hit by a sudden bout of exhaustion again as soon as Finn shut me safely in the backseat.

"I need to go home," I tried to tell them. And it was true. My father would be waiting for me, and he didn't like it when I didn't come home at night. In fact, that's usually why the fighting would start. That's why mom had left when I was thirteen – I hadn't come home, and he had taken his anger out on her. "I need to get back to my house."

"You're not going back tonight, honey. Look at you! You need someone to take care of you!" Kurt didn't understand. Going home drunk was nothing. Dad was normally too intoxicated himself by this hour to notice.

But they went back to ignoring me. I tried to reason with them, but I'm not sure if they heard anything. I kept hearing bits of their conversation – "He's _drunk_, Kurt. Do you want him to kiss you drunk or sober?" "He's only _tipsy_. That's not _drunk_. Just because you couldn't get any action with any of the drunken _girls_, you don't want me to have fun!" – but it didn't interest me much. I tried to sleep, but the road was much too bumpy. I could not be happier when the car finally stopped and the door next to me opened.

"I got him, Finn!" Kurt hissed, obviously annoyed by something. He unstrapped me a little too violently, but when he put my arm around his shoulder to guide me, I knew that he would be nothing but gentle. "You have to be quiet," he whispered, his lips right up against my ear. "My dad's probably asleep by now."

We tiptoed in, but giggled the whole way. "Shhh!" Kurt kept whispering, but I could not stop laughing. I don't know why, but everything seemed so perfect.

We got to his room, and his bed looked like home. It looked soft and warm – completely opposite from my stiff mattress that held only a few thin blankets. I don't remember if I said anything to him, but Kurt started laughing, and I felt myself lightly fall onto the pillows and comforter. I was dead to the world.

My eyes fluttered open. My head was about to explode, but I could think. Light peaked through the windows, and I knew it was morning. But something was wrong – this definitely was not my house.

I was tucked into a huge bed, my shoes off and in clean clothes. Lying next to me was Kurt. Even with the alcohol out of my system, the light seemed to reflect off of him in the most beautiful way imaginable. He was fast asleep, his mouth shut tight, but he still had a small smile plastered on his face from the night before.

"Thank you," I whispered, afraid I'd wake him up. He squirmed a little, but didn't open his eyes. Against my better judgment, I leaned forward just enough to reach his lips.

He tasted like peppermint. And diet coke. And chocolate. And coffee. His lips were perfect. They fit with mine, and it was satisfying, like putting the last piece of a puzzle into its rightful spot. He felt like safety and control, and I was immediately protective of him the moment I touched him. I didn't want to _stop _touching him; I felt like I had finally found something that gave me a reason to wake up every morning. Kissing Rachel was nothing like this – kissing anyone would be nothing like this.

When I pulled away, his smile seemed to widen, but he still didn't wake up. He wouldn't remember that kiss, ever. But I would never forget it.

Closing my eyes against the horrible light, I curled up to Kurt as close as I could, and I fell into dreams about the rest of our lives.


End file.
